


That Is Not What the Door's For

by nein



Series: title prompt challenges [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Minor Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nein/pseuds/nein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right before Bokuto's first date with Akaashi, he receives a crash course on entrance etiquette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Is Not What the Door's For

**Author's Note:**

> This, was birthed from a title prompt challenge with [themorninglark](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark) (who wrote the beautiful [Wasted Daylight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5649583)). Both of us promised a drabble with a max of 1k if we were super inspired.
> 
> //rolls off into the sunset.

 

“A door is made for opening,” Kuroo grins, rolling up his sleeves. “So when you do open it-“, which he does, in a flourishing motion, “It is very important that you hold it open so that, _voilà_ , your arm makes a perfect arc showing off your-," he pats Bokuto’s forearm, “Biceps. Which will-"

“Be impressive and admirable and charming!” Bokuto finishes, pointing gun-hands at the man, no, _best-man_ he has appointed as his Romantic Advisor for today’s Professional Courtship Session Number 1. His bottom is itchy from the new chinos Kuroo has bought him last night (still unwashed, though they had remembered to cut the tag off a few minutes before). He resists the urge to scratch because, well, he does not know which hand will have the pleasure of holding Akaashi’s later on tonight. Which will happen. Because he is currently training to be impressive and admirable and charming.

“Exact- _ly,”_ Kuroo snaps his fingers, “You set yourself in an open, approachable position ready to engage the object of your desires. With this, you are free to make eye contact and deliver a charismatic hello."

Bokuto nods rapidly, “Eye contact and charismatic hello.”

“Yep,” Kuroo steps out into the corridor. “Now close the door, and pretend I’m Akaashi.”

“Okay,” Bokuto takes a step back, breathing out with puffed cheeks before closing the door.

He throws open the door so hard it bangs against the wall. “Akaashi!” There’s probably a dent that they will have to pay for.

“Oh, ahaha,” Kuroo laughs nervously after a few seconds standing shock still, “Not that urgently. You don’t want to sweep him off his feet."

"But I _do_ want to sweep him off his feet.” Bokuto replies earnestly.

"Not literally.” Kuroo fans his face, as if trying to push the comment away, "This early on anyway. Try again? Say his name like, Aka- _ashi._ ”

“A- _kaashi._ ” Bokuto frowns. “Akaaaaashi.”

“Sexier,” Kuroo scratches his chin, “that’s a drawl. Aka- _ashi_. Like you can attach babe after it. Aka- _ashi, babe_.”

“ _Babe,”_ Bokuto rolls the sound on his tongue. He holds out his arm against the door like Kuroo taught him to, leans in a little and angles himself to be _impressive and admirable and charming_ (30 degrees?). 

“I do _not_ want to know what’s going on.”

 

 

 

 

They spin around to see Oikawa standing in the doorway opposite theirs, arms crossed with one half-shaven leg sticking out of his pink bathrobe like Angelina Jolie. The face mask he has on would’ve been snap-worthy if not for the fact it accentuated the multiple frown lines he has across his forehead. It made him look very, _very_ angry.

“We were-“ Kuroo began.

“I don’t care,” Oikawa seethed, “Just, for god’s sake, shut up. I can hear you over my bossa nova mixtape."

Bokuto tilted his head, "Bro I thought you didn’t have body hair."

Oikawa whipped his bathrobe closed. “Excuse you." Suddenly his eyes drift downwards, and narrowed. “Bokuto, what, kind of shoes, are you planning to wear."

They all look down at Bokuto's tan chinos and lavender socks.

"Um." Bokuto looks helplessly at Kuroo. Kuroo looks helplessly inside before and toeing a pair of white canvas shoes into Oikawa’s sight.

Oikawa bares his canines into a snarl. "As much satisfaction as I would get from seeing you fail, I cannot tolerate being associated with your failure so." He jabbed his finger, “One. Get rid of those socks. Two. Fold those pants to ankle length. Three. You’re welcome.” He closed the door behind him with a decisive thud that echoed down the hallway like a mourning banshee.

Kuroo and Bokuto looked at one another. "So what twisted his panties?" Bokuto muses.

Kuroo shrugs. “I’ll do your right leg?”

“And I'll do the left." Bokuto grins.

They both bend down, reaching for the edge of Bokuto’s pants until suddenly-

A door bangs open.

 

 

“Who the _fuck_ are slamming all doors.” 

“Ah. Good morning Kamasaki-san.” Kuroo shuffles out backwards, so that it was not only his butt sticking out into the corridor. 

“Mornin’!” Bokuto sticks his foot out out, just to make his presence known. So that, you know, Kamasaki will not question Kuroo’s purpose of being so near the ground.

“Um. The one who slammed the door just then was Oikawa.” Kuroo raises a lazy finger to point at the door opposite theirs.

“That son of a bitc-“

“Eh Kamasaki, I’m pretty sure the last one was you.” another voice chimes in. Futakuchi’s head pokes out at the end of the corridor, smirk visible despite the distance. He even fakes a yawn, “It’s too early to be hypocritical _senpai_."

“Why you little shit-."

Two more doors were slammed within the next few seconds.

 

 

 

 

Another door opens on the other end of the corridor, causing both Kuroo and Bokuto to whip their heads to the left. Ennoshita is stepping out of his room with the well-dressed grace of a grand-uncle, cashmere cardigan buttoned to the second highest. 

No one dares to breathe as Ennoshita closes his door quietly and walks towards them. Anticipation is thick in the hair like a child who just crapped their pants was waiting for their parents to notice. Both their heads rotate to follow his movements.

“I’m going out to buy coffee.” He states, blinking at their expectant expressions, to answer the question neither of them asked.

“Ah.” Kuroo cocks his head, not-staring-but-staring at the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles. “That would be a good idea.” Ennoshita nods slowly.

Bokuto breathes out. Ennoshita’s nose then furrows with the most minuscle of winces. One outstretched leg pauses, retracts, then steps forward, then pauses again. He turns around hesitantly.

“Bokuto-senpai….I apologise for being forward, but from what I gathered of your purposes with the door,” Ennosita coughed gently, "I find it imperative to suggest that it might be a good idea to…. chew a mint?” 

 

The corridor was quiet.

 

Ennoshita continues down and presses the button for the elevator.

 

The elevator hums, then dings.

 

“Oh Akaashi, what a surprise.” 

 

Bokuto’s blood freezes.

 

“Good morning Ennoshita,” Akaashi’s voiced floats around the corner and towards them. It was like the cool jazz that Oikawa sometimes played (soothing with the promise of a swing), or the pleasant caramel macchiato that he himself sometimes drank (dark with sweet overtones), or the morning sunlight that slide through the glass when Kuroo forgot to close the curtains (sensual, with growing warmth). 

 

Bokuto slams his door closed.

 

“He’s here.” He whispers to Kuroo, eyes wide.

“He’s here?!!” 

Bokuto makes elevator-door-opening actions with his hands, nodding furiously.

Outside, muted footsteps sounded, grew louder, then stops. Right outside.

“Is it him? Is it him? It’s him.” Bokuto panics, sliding down against the door.

“Wait, shh let me look,” Kuroo leans over him to squint through the glass peephole, “Yep it’s him."

“LET ME SEE.” Bokuto bodily pushes Kuroo aside to press his eye against the hole and heavenly mother of volleyballs there he was, _Akaashi Keiji_ , the love of his second year college life, standing in front of his door wearing the softest grey turtle neck ever that he would love fall asleep on. Dark denim was folded over the sweater cuffs, revealing an inch of skin at the wrists and, _oh, oh,_ how Bokuto could stare at that pale skin the way-

Akaashi was staring at him right now, directly through the peephole.

 

(Okay not the way Akaashi was staring at him. Lovingly yes. Not like - Wait. Does that mean Akaashi does not?! Him? Doesn't?)

 

Bokuto stumbles back, a stricken man. One hand clutched his heart while the other swatted the air until it found place on Kuroo’s cheek. 

_He saw me_. Was the sentence his brain inputs for communication. “His eyes,” his mouth whispered instead, broken and lost to the whims of the smitten.

Kuroo’s hands did some sped-up rotational tai chi move in the direction of the door. 

Bokuto shakes his head furiously, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

Kuroo’s tai chi increases in intensity.

Bokuto’s hands whips in front of him to form an X. 

“Just open the door,” Kuroo hisses.

“I can’t,” Bokuto hisses back, “I don’t know what to do.”

“You do know what to do,” Kuroo holds out three fingers, “Door, eye contact, charismatic hello.”

“He’s too beautiful. I can’t.” 

"He’s waiting.”

“He can also hear you both,” Akaashi spoke, voice absolutely deadpan.

Silence reigned for two heartbeats.

“Yes!” Bokuto’s head shoots up, eyes suddenly flaming with renewed vigour, “Akaashi is waiting for me.”

“I am right here.” Akaashi continues, "Please open the door Bokuto-san.”

“Kuroo! My man,” Bokuto waves his arm, “Get me mint! I'll take my socks off!”

“Yes sir!"

“….I’m just going to pretend I can’t hear any of this.”

Ripping off his socks to the side, Bokuto rolls up his pants to his ankles and opens his mouth for Kuroo to lobby several mints in. He crushes them all with his teeth, chews, then motions for Kuroo to come closer.

Bokuto sucks in a breath and breathes out with puffed cheeks into Kuroo’s face. “How do I smell?”

“Kissable,” Kuroo winks. “Go for it.”

Bokuto grins before closing his eyes and puffing out his chest, one hand on the doorknob.

 

_I am impressive and admirable and charming._

 

“Yes you are.” Akaashi’s voice interrupts, (’You said it out loud,’ Kuroo explains) “Now please come out. Doors are meant to be opened Bokuto-san.”

“Yes, I agree,” Bokuto replies, very calmly, all of a sudden the perfect apparition of a focused gentleman. He opens the door in a controlled, graceful arc to reveal a startled Akaashi (who looks like he was not expecting the door to be opened at all this year, and he’s wearing black pants, Bokuto approves). He flexes his bicep, enjoying the subtle motion of Akaashi’s pupils as they flickered to his arm before back to his face (eye contact, check).

“ _Babe,”_ he purrs (charismatic hello, che-

Akaashi slowly turns to stare at Kuroo with dead eyes, "What did you do to him."

The corner of Kuroo’s mouth twitches. With one hand, he pushes the quickly wavering Bokuto outside while closing the door with his other one. “Have fun,” he sings, voice cracking on the last syllable.

“Bokuto….” Akaashi begins, tone tethering on a fine balance with empty darkness on either scale. Kuroo backs from the scene away very very quickly.

Sometimes doors are meant to be closed.

**Author's Note:**

> [What Akaashi was wearing](https://www.instagram.com/p/_iSi4zAmAk/?taken-by=freund.m)
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> [[twitter](http://twitter.com/develei)]
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> Thank you for reading!


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